Lord Zee
Vec
JFK
Fetzen
Thayr
BingTheWing
So is the champion's hand stuck to Fangir's back? If not, grabbing somebody by the hair, then squatting down and jerking their hand forward would probably be more than enough to send them tripping over your shoulder. Especially if you're particularly strong, as in this case. I've done a judo throw once or twice before and would think that this would work, but otherwise I'm not much of an authority either.
I didn't interpret your writing as the champion's gauntlet remaining attached to his back, bu if that is the case, I don't think a throw would be as easy. Like you said, if would just be a painful jerking movement, perhaps followed by a few wild stabs of Fangir's dagger going behind.
If it is the latter case then Fangir wouldn't be aware of the gauntlet being stuck, only thathe got hit from behind and feels really cold on his back. So my post wouldn't need editing.
Cyclone
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Back when dinosaurs ruled the Earth, I got started with writing online on the Spore forums. Man, those were the days. We're talking like 12 years ago 2010-ish!
I've been here on and off for almost as long, and have GM'd a bunch of different things to varying success.
I've been here on and off for almost as long, and have GM'd a bunch of different things to varying success.
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Hmm, the Ripper has remained silent throughout Clotho's little mental 'debate'. He might have a word or two to say about destruction being necessary and inevitable in any case, with oblivion the ideal state of being.
Oh, completely forgot to answer you. In his wooden form he'd be close to as strong as a zealot. Maybe 1.5 times that of a normal human in his physical prime.
Unless the ice had already stretched from the unspecified part of his back and covered his shoulder blades, I think he'd be able to at least reach back, if not do the throw.
Unless the ice had already stretched from the unspecified part of his back and covered his shoulder blades, I think he'd be able to at least reach back, if not do the throw.
KabenSaal said
Would it be possible for Emily to, over time, become a Keeper in the Underworld? And then be the Under-Keeper?
Maybe Keeper over a small swathe of land down there, but not the entire underworld. We're talking about an entire realm, with millions of demons, many of whom are so powerful that I'm not even letting Shaige summon them as anything less than level five or six creatures.
Not that I know of.
Kangutso said
Sounds like you're about to add a large chunk of lore to the story.
In my eyes it's not much more than I added with the spirit realm. For all intents and purposes I'm basically just making more NPC groups. The underworld itself might be getting fleshed out, but since nobody else seemed to be going that route with their Keepers I figured doing as much wouldn't cause any contradictions.
Kokytos is just one region of the underworld, at least as I've envisioned it for when Shaige eventually goes there looking for allies. The demons of the other realms certainly would hate the cold. The other realms are Styx, Ahkeron, Lethe, and Phlegethon. I was only really going to have Shaige interact with Ahkeron and maybe Lethe.
Meh, she could have mustered the adrenaline to run. Or tried groveling. But anywaysl, being stuck in Kokytos puts you in an interesting narrative position. Escaping and surviving would both be difficult, though with help from some demons this might be an opportunity to turn your rogue being into a Keeper.
Well, I didn't expect Emily to allow herself to literally be thrown into hell without a fight. But far be it from to stop her from eating snow cones with ice devils.
Soran, who had thus far been stumbling through through the mist stubbornly trying to reach where he had seen Shaige, was suddenly barraged with a hail of ice. The projectiles tumbled to the ground, having done nothing save annoy. The construct spun to see a silhouette in the mist, though it clearly not Fangir. This was one of the Klug, trying to get his attention. Toying with him. Surely the imp's master could wait a few seconds longer for his loyal minion to incinerate this fool.
While a powerful fireball no doubt would have been enough to melt any human to tallow, it would also take several seconds to conjure. It was too easy to dodge. Too predictable. So the demonic general's mouth opened, and he loosed a blood-curdling, feral roar. Clouds of infernal smoke billowed out, the choking sulfurous haze filling the lungs of any who breathed it in. Twice as thick as the champion's magically conjured mist, no light penetrated the construct's breath. However, his thunderous footsteps would be enough to reveal that he was charging to find his attacker.
With both Fangir's metamorphosed, oaken form and the champion unrecognizable, the demon would probably not hesitate to attack the first one of the two that he saw, or both of them.
===---_---===
The moment that the champion smiled, Fangir saw through his trickery - but alas, too late to dodge the blow that struck him from behind. "The murderers died screaming," the archdruid grunted as he reached backward to grab at the champion's hair, finding his effort already slightly impaired from the sheet of magical ice that was rapidly encasing his torso. Still, Fangir's iron grip managed to close around something. The chieftain heaved as he attempted throw the champion over his shoulder and into the mud, where he would proceed to stab the man a hundred times with the dagger he still clutched in his right hand.
Then, an even thicker smog enveloped the two. It was black as the soot from a furnace, and stiflingly hot. The smoke sank down into Fangir's lungs. His internal organs had been partially hardened like his flesh, but he still more animal than plant and so susceptible to an extent. The archdruid wheezed and coughed more forcibly than he ever had before, though only sawdust flew from his mouth. Whether Fangir had successfully thrown his enemy or not he did not know, as he was now on his knees struggling to recover. The champion would likely be hacking up blood, equally debilitated.
===---_---===
Slowly, menacingly, Shaige began to walk towards the sorceress before him. She looked exhausted, weak. Her attempt to appear strong failed utterly, the wraith perceived her as utterly powerless. In response to her questions, one word would echo in her mind, rasped in an alien and almost bored tone. "Indeed," Shaige answered telepathically. She had not grovelled for mercy as most in her position seemed to do, and so the wraith saw her as defiant. She had dared to challenge his might with her false sun, then attempted to slay Ifrit. And here she now stood, still stubbornly refusing to submit to his power.
The Keeper gave in to his sadistic whims. As he stepped closer, he willed the souls of three nearby fallen Klug to wriggle free from their bodies. The wailing, ghostly souls were forced against their will to form a triangle in the air. Shaige raised a hand once again and the souls vanished. In their place appeared a rift, a portal straight to the underworld. A frigid wind blew out. Demonic claws, their flesh blue and covered in hoarfrost, reached out of the portal to accept Shaige's offering.
With one more step the wraith closed the distance between himself and Emily. His skeletal hand reached for her throat, ready to throw her to the demon reaching through the portal. Dragged into Kokytos, the infernal realm of ice home to the fearsome frost demons, she would meet a near certain death. Her best hope of salvation would be to escape the wraith's grasp before fighting or fleeing. Alternatively she could try to plead for mercy, though Shaige had already made his decision and would be hard to placate.
While a powerful fireball no doubt would have been enough to melt any human to tallow, it would also take several seconds to conjure. It was too easy to dodge. Too predictable. So the demonic general's mouth opened, and he loosed a blood-curdling, feral roar. Clouds of infernal smoke billowed out, the choking sulfurous haze filling the lungs of any who breathed it in. Twice as thick as the champion's magically conjured mist, no light penetrated the construct's breath. However, his thunderous footsteps would be enough to reveal that he was charging to find his attacker.
With both Fangir's metamorphosed, oaken form and the champion unrecognizable, the demon would probably not hesitate to attack the first one of the two that he saw, or both of them.
===---_---===
The moment that the champion smiled, Fangir saw through his trickery - but alas, too late to dodge the blow that struck him from behind. "The murderers died screaming," the archdruid grunted as he reached backward to grab at the champion's hair, finding his effort already slightly impaired from the sheet of magical ice that was rapidly encasing his torso. Still, Fangir's iron grip managed to close around something. The chieftain heaved as he attempted throw the champion over his shoulder and into the mud, where he would proceed to stab the man a hundred times with the dagger he still clutched in his right hand.
Then, an even thicker smog enveloped the two. It was black as the soot from a furnace, and stiflingly hot. The smoke sank down into Fangir's lungs. His internal organs had been partially hardened like his flesh, but he still more animal than plant and so susceptible to an extent. The archdruid wheezed and coughed more forcibly than he ever had before, though only sawdust flew from his mouth. Whether Fangir had successfully thrown his enemy or not he did not know, as he was now on his knees struggling to recover. The champion would likely be hacking up blood, equally debilitated.
===---_---===
Slowly, menacingly, Shaige began to walk towards the sorceress before him. She looked exhausted, weak. Her attempt to appear strong failed utterly, the wraith perceived her as utterly powerless. In response to her questions, one word would echo in her mind, rasped in an alien and almost bored tone. "Indeed," Shaige answered telepathically. She had not grovelled for mercy as most in her position seemed to do, and so the wraith saw her as defiant. She had dared to challenge his might with her false sun, then attempted to slay Ifrit. And here she now stood, still stubbornly refusing to submit to his power.
The Keeper gave in to his sadistic whims. As he stepped closer, he willed the souls of three nearby fallen Klug to wriggle free from their bodies. The wailing, ghostly souls were forced against their will to form a triangle in the air. Shaige raised a hand once again and the souls vanished. In their place appeared a rift, a portal straight to the underworld. A frigid wind blew out. Demonic claws, their flesh blue and covered in hoarfrost, reached out of the portal to accept Shaige's offering.
With one more step the wraith closed the distance between himself and Emily. His skeletal hand reached for her throat, ready to throw her to the demon reaching through the portal. Dragged into Kokytos, the infernal realm of ice home to the fearsome frost demons, she would meet a near certain death. Her best hope of salvation would be to escape the wraith's grasp before fighting or fleeing. Alternatively she could try to plead for mercy, though Shaige had already made his decision and would be hard to placate.
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